


Love is Patient, Love is Kind

by orphan_account



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Blasphemy, Brief mention of canon typical child abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Childhood Trauma, Desperation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Gentleness, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, Mutual Pining, Post-Case, Priest Reid, Resolved Sexual Tension, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Virgin Reid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 05:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11052630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: SSA Derek Morgan's relationship with God is rocky at best. Somehow, he finds his salvation in someone who should be completely unobtainable: A Father Spencer Reid.~Priest!Reid AU. Everyone else is the same.





	Love is Patient, Love is Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there everyone! I'm Kait. Thank you for joining me on what I plan to be a pretty long journey.  
> This will be the definition of slow burn. I really really hope you enjoy!  
> *If you are a religious Christian, this might be offensive*  
> I LOVE YOU!  
> Also, a few people pointed out that I had some missing dialogue! I posted this really late at night and didn't check it over much, so I fixed the problem. ..I think.

The sun had just set. Morgan walked the chilled streets, drawing his hooded jacket tighter around him. Aside from a few homeless people curled up in tattered sleeping bags beneath the overpass, no one was around. Every car that whizzed past Morgan’s shoulder had him jumping a mile, and he internally cussed out his FBI reflexes. His gun weighed heavy on his hip with every strong step he took. 

His footsteps came to a slow stop when he reached his destination. A daunting, white building contrasting with the rapidly darkening sky loomed above Morgan. Mounted on the wooden roof was a golden cross that seemed to stretch endlessly into the atmosphere. Was he seriously going to fucking do this? Was he really about to enter a goddamn _church_ of all things? He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Morgan lingered at the cherrywood door for a moment and checked his phone. Garcia had texted him multiple times and he chuckled fondly. 

_8:46 PM: Are u at the church?_  
_8:51 PM: Srsly babe i wanna know how its going._

Morgan replied with a quick: _yeah, baby girl. Can't believe you're makin me do this._  
He was just about to shove his phone back into his pocket when it beeped again. _9:02 PM: ily. That special video of hotch is waiting for u on my desk ;)_

Morgan barked out a laugh but cringed at the echo of the sound. Garcia had been mother-henning him nonstop ever since she had walked in on him punching a wall after a particularly gruesome case. She’d sat him down, all lashes and bubblegum pink curls, and told him he needed to talk to somebody. Morgan had scoffed at the mere idea of going to therapy, so Garcia had some up with another idea. Church. 

Now, he was having some serious regrets. 

Morgan stared at the complexities of the wood, at the twists and turns and knots. The doorknob was simple; the same shade of gold as the towering cross, and he picked it up with a tense hand. The resounding ‘boom’ of metal against wood made Morgan’s skin crawl. He was about to make a run for it, to tell Garcia that she could keep whatever video she had of Hotch, but then a voice called out to him. 

"I was wondering how long you’d stand there,” The voice was soft, young. Certainly not what Morgan had been expecting. “Please come in. Our doors are always open.” 

Morgan swallowed. He decided to man up and go inside, opening the door before he could change his mind. 

The first thing Morgan noticed was the huge stained-glass window on the far left wall of the Church, near an absurdly large organ. It was compiled of reds and blues, and a soft orange that served as Jesus’ skin. His crying eyes glinted black, and His blood was a deep burgundy in the soft light. It was hauntingly beautiful. Memories of Morgan’s childhood overwhelmed him for a moment; memories of getting dressed up and going to church with mama and his sisters, memories of apologizing to God over and over as the bells chimed and Carl Buford’s voice bounced around in his head. He shuddered in an attempt to shove those memories away, to bury them deep down until they would once again resurface. 

The next thing that caught his eye was the Priest himself. His quiet footfalls against the carpeted church startled Morgan out of his stupor, and he whirled around. Any snide remarks he had died on Morgan’s tongue, because holy _fuck_. 

The Priest was young. Morgan thought that he couldn’t have been more than thirty, and that was generous. His absurdly soft features had a youthfulness to them that Morgan had only seen in movies, or in his dreams. The Priest’s plump lips were quirked in a gentle smile, and his eyelashes glowed orange in the muted candle light. His hair was down feathers; a brunette mop. His baggy robes and high collar left almost everything to the imagination, but Morgan could tell that he was thin from his hollow, chiseled cheek bones. Woah. 

“Hey there, Father,” Morgan flashed his signature smile, all white teeth and flirtatious undertones. He mentally kicked himself, because he was talking to a goddamn Priest. Not okay. “Uh. Sorry to intrude.” 

The Priest continued to smile softly. “You’re not intruding. As I said, anyone is welcome here at any time. I’m Father Reid.” 

Morgan reached out a hand for him to shake. “I’m Derek. Derek Morgan.” 

Father Reid’s eyes flashed to his hand, and his smile fell and a look of timidity took its place. “Um. I apologize, but I don’t shake hands.” 

Morgan let his hand flop to his side stupidly and raised an eyebrow. “Why not?” He asked. _My hands too lowly for your Holy skin?_ Morgan thought caustically. 

"Well, you see, over five thousand strains of pathogens, on average, exist on an individual’s hands at any given moment,” Father Reid said, suddenly stiff and awkward. Morgan laughed incredulously. 

"Seriously? A germaphobe Priest? How do you do the thing with the crackers?” 

The light in Father Reid’s eyes returned at the opportunity to spout information. “The human mouth, although it contains more bacteria than human hands, carries little to no infectious viruses, unless the individual is already ill at the time of contact.” 

“Uh,” Morgan looked at the Priest strangely. “Got it.” 

“What brings you here today, Derek?” Father Reid asked, calm expression returning. “Are you here for Confession? The Lord is here and ready to listen.” 

Morgan had to repress the urge to laugh. Man, his mama would be kicking his sorry ass right now if she could read his mind. “S’Pose you could say that. My good friend Penelope dared me to talk to a Priest. So here I am.” Morgan cringed; why the hell was he being honest about this? Surely he’d be kicked out. But Father Reid just nodded, eyebrows knit together in... _concern?_

__

__

“Are you not a Believer?” 

Morgan was caught off guard by the sincerity of the Priest’s tone. “I believe in God. Just not a fan of all the rules, all the other crap. Uh, no offense.” 

Father Reid nodded. “None taken. God loves you, you know. And he always will.” 

Morgan grimaced. He had a complicated relationship with God. He’d been so full of hatred for so many years, because God hadn’t done shit for him. Hadn’t done shit for the bleeding children Morgan had been too late to save. “Thanks.” 

Father Reid folded his hands together. “Well, your friend dared you to speak with me. So let’s begin. What would you like to speak to me about?” 

Morgan blinked. He hadn’t expected to get this far. “Hadn’t thought about it.” 

“Hm. Okay. What do you do for a living, Derek? I can see its something very stressful, perhaps involving hand-to-hand combat and the government?” 

_What kind of Priest is this?_

"How'd you figure that out?"

“You hold yourself proudly, confidently, although there’s paranoia in your eyes as well. You’re prepared for danger. You speak casually, but there’s a professionalism in your tone that implies...maybe you’re an agent of some sort? And your body is tense. Stressed.” 

Morgan’s mouth dropped open. “Did you just profile me?” 

"Profile? Are you referring to the practice of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit?” 

"The fu--” Morgan caught himself and smoothed his hands on his jeans. “Where are you getting this from, Father?” 

Father Reid seemed surprised at Morgan’s reaction. “I suppose it’s part of my nature. God speaks through me.” 

Morgan snorted. “Yeah, okay. I think you’re just highly intelligent. Give yourself some credit.” 

Father Reid flushed, and Morgan’s breath caught in his throat because _goddamn_ he was gorgeous. “Thank you. I...I take it I wasn’t far off then, Agent Morgan?” 

“You don’t need to call me that, kid. I mean, Father. But yeah, you’re right on the money. I’m a BAU Agent.”  
Father Reid nodded, pressing his fingers against his lips. “I see. That’s a very noble profession. You must see some very unsettling things. I can understand why you doubt God and His Plan.” 

Morgan was caught off guard by the sudden warmth in his chest. This young Priest wasn't judging him, wasn’t writing him off as a sinner like Morgan had originally expected. “Oh. Uh, thanks. Can I ask you somethin’ now?” 

"Of course.” 

“Why did you decide to become a Priest?” 

Father Reid smiled, pride shining through his features. Good Lord, Morgan was going to hell. This kid looked straight out of a magazine. “I grew up in an unstable household. My mother was, and is, severely mentally ill. My neighborhood church provided a home for me, and God’s light gave me hope in the darkest of times. It seemed only natural for me to join the clergy.” 

Morgan couldn’t help but grin back. “I respect that.” 

"Thank you, Derek. Is there anything else you’d like to speak to me about? Maybe to confess? Whatever you say is strictly confidential.” 

“Nah, nah, I’m alright. But, uh, do you mind if I stop by again sometime?” “Please do,” Father Reid said warmly. “I’m here during most evenings, from 7 PM until 5 AM.” 

_Morgan whistled. “Damn, you must be a night owl.”_

“Yes, I suppose I am. My chronotype and circadian rhythm differ from the average person. Studies show that this might have something to do with my IQ.” 

“Your IQ? How high is it?” Morgan asked with genuine curiosity. 

>“187. Although I personally believe that intelligence cannot be accurately quantified.” 

_"Jesus Christ." Morgan blurted out._

Father Reid flinched and crossed himself, but recovered quickly. Morgan cleared his throat and mumbled out an awkward apology. 

__

__

"That’s alright,” Father Reid said sincerely. “I’m no stranger to blasphemy.” 

>“‘I’m no stranger to blasphemy?’ Sounds like the title to an ACDC song.” 

>Father Reid cocked his head to the side, clearly confused. “ACDC?” 

>“Are you kidding me? You’re not _that_ young, are you?” 

>“I’m 27. I completed high school when I was 12, although I wasn’t allowed to be ordinated until age 25. So I continued my studies until I reached the proper age to become a Priest.” 

_"...You graduated high school at 12?"_

 _“I did, yes.”_

_"Damn.”_

“So, what’s ACDC?” 

Morgan laughed for the first time in days, and damn did it feel good. “An eighties rock band. Really sinful lyrics, you probably wouldn’t like it. I loved them as a kid, until I got into hip hop.” 

Father Reid nodded, genuinely interested in this new information. “Hip hop. Now that’s a term I’m familiar with. A young man who attends our Mass every week is a DJ. He’s taught me quite a bit about the genre. It’s...not really my taste, but it’s certainly creative.” 

"What do you listen to, Father?” 

“I’m glad you asked!” Father Reid’s eyes brightened and he stuck his hand under his robes. He pulled out an iPhone, and for a moment wasn’t sure what he was seeing. Priests and technology were a weird combination. Father Reid began tapping away on his phone, fingers long and nimble. Morgan swallowed and tore his gaze away. He’d always had a thing for hands. 

In a moment, Father Reid was holding his phone out to Morgan, who stared at the device for a moment before taking it in hand. On it was a playlist. Morgan read over it quickly. Without fail, every song on there was a classical piece or symphony. 

__

__

_“Was that obvious?” Father Reid said, perplexed._

“Sorta, yeah,” Morgan said. “Bach? Beethoven? That’s a lot of B's.” 

Father Reid seemed to find this utterly hilarious. He laughed, or rather giggled, cheeks turning pink as his chest shook with laughter. Morgan was awestruck for a moment. 

“Seriously? That wasn’t even funny. But thanks for the support.” He looked down at his watch and noted that it was past ten. He had to get home and walk Clooney, or he’d return to a house full of dog turds. “I gotta get going, Father.” 

Morgan could’ve sworn that Father Reid’s face fell for a moment, but before he could so much as register the change, it had settled back into a peaceful smile. “It was a pleasure speaking to you this evening, Derek. Feel free to come back and visit any time you'd like. 

Morgan grinned and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. If this had been any other situation, if he’d seen this gorgeous man at a bar or in public, he would be flirting like there was no tomorrow. But this wasn’t any other situation, so Morgan settled for a brief: “I might just take you up on that, Father”, and left with a wave of his hand. 

_~_

The moment Morgan walked through the doors of the BAU the following morning, even before Hotch was able to round everyone up to prepare for a case, Garcia was at his heels. 

“Hey, sugarplum. You have a promise to keep. If you don’t tell me everything, I might have to punish you,” She said with a playful smirk. Today, Garcia was wearing purple lipstick and a pastel pink dress. 

“Mornin’, baby girl. You look as beautiful as ever,” He nudged her with a sly grin. “Don’t tempt me.” 

<“Come onnn,” Garcia pressed, leaning into him. She smelled like vanilla frosting, as she always did. Morgan found her scent impossibly comforting. 

<“Alright, alright. It wasn’t that bad. Actually, not bad at all. Hey, hey, don’t look at me like that, princess. Don’t wanna hear your ‘I told you so’s.” 

“But...I did tell you so,” She said, twirling a streaked pigtail between her manicured fingers. “What did you guys talk about? How much of a Jesus freak was he?” 

Morgan laughed. “He was really young. Told me he was 27. We just talked. You know, about things. Little bit of a Jesus freak, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy his company.” 

The clicking of Garcia’s heels against the marble floor stopped abruptly when she came to a halt. She stared at Morgan through narrow eyes. 

“Hold up. He was that young?” 

“Yeah, he was. So what? I don’t like that look, baby.” 

“Don’t tell me. He was a total babe.” 

Morgan tried to keep his facial expression neutral, but Garcia’s giggle confirmed that he wasn’t being convincing. 

“Oh my God! That’s...oh my God. I’m loving this!” 

Morgan couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Shut it, dollface.” Garcia was the only team member who knew about Morgan’s bisexuality, and although she was an incredible secret keeper, she was always digging around in his business. Not that he really minded. 

“Oooo, this is a whole new level of messed up. You want to bang a Priest!” 

_“Hey! Don’t put words into my mouth!.”_

"Oh, sweetie, you didn’t have to say it. I may not be a profiler but I saw it in your eyes. He’s exactly your type, isn’t he?” 

An image of Father Reid popped into Morgan’s head; he was all doe eyes, plush lips, supple skin. “Uh.” Morgan said stupidly. 

Morgan breathed a quick: “That's pretty screwed up, Sugar." 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there's the first chapter! Please please comment if you liked it and would like to see more. Comments really motivate me!  
> Love Kait  
> (Also please feel free to send me prompts at my Tumblr, sparklingfanfiction.tumblr.com


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